She tugged on her clothes and fluffed her hair as best she could in case she ran into anyone on the way back to her room. What she needed was a shower and a chance to get in control of her crazy emotions. But when she stepped out into the hallway and smelled fresh coffee, sizzling bacon, and heard laughter coming from downstairs, her stomach rumbled, and her need to find out just where Mitch had gone pushed her feet toward the stairs instead of toward her room.
Warmth from the fire someone had built encircled her the moment she stepped off the last step. She rounded the corner toward the great room, and a sense of family encompassed her when she saw the group busily making breakfast in the adjoining kitchen. Ryan stood at the counter, flipping strips of bacon on the griddle, razzing Kendrick about something related to his music. Kendrick was leaning against the counter, a coffee cup in hand, scowling at Ryan like a petulant child. Kate sat at the kitchen table, one leg tucked under her as she flipped screens on a laptop, shaking her head, and Mitch stood on the far side of the kitchen, pouring a fresh cup of coffee, smirking at the ongoing the conversation.
If you didn’t know why there were really all gathered together, you’d think it was nothing more than a family ski vacation at the lake. But Simone knew differently, and as she glanced from face to face, finally settling on Mitch’s profile, a profound feeling of loss swept over her.
She’d be giving all this up when she disappeared with Shannon. The first sense of family she’d had in…forever. And though that fact hurt her heart, what caused it intense pain was not knowing what Mitch planned to do or if there was any chance of her talking some kind of sense into him before it was too late.
Kate’s fingers stilled on the laptop, and she glanced toward the archway that led to the stairs, her eyes brightening when she saw Simone. “Hey. You’re awake.”
Conversation died off in the kitchen. Heads turned her way. All but Mitch’s. Trying not to focus too much on that fact, and realizing she was wearing the same clothes she’d had on last night, Simone inwardly cringed, then told herself not to be so damn self-conscious. “Sorry. I didn’t realize how late it was.”
“Not that late.” Kate pushed out of her chair, crossed the room, and gave Simone a quick hug. “It’s barely nine. The guys all just rolled out of bed.”
All but Mitch, Simone wanted to say. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she was confident he’d left sometime in the middle of the night, not this morning. And that fact only sent her nerves higher.
“You obviously needed the sleep.” Kate let go of Simone and glanced over her shoulder. “Kendrick, don’t just stand there, get the poor girl something to drink.”
“That woman is so domineering,” Kendrick mumbled to Ryan. “And you like that? Dude, you’re more twisted than I thought.”
Ryan shot his wife a heated look, chuckled, then went back to flipping bacon.
Kate returned to her laptop, and Kendrick crossed the kitchen, then handed Simone a bubbling orange champagne flute. “Guaranteed to cure whatever ails you. My secret is really good champagne.”
“Getting girls drunk is Kendrick’s specialty,” Ryan said from the kitchen. “Be careful.”
Kendrick winked at Simone, then turned back for the kitchen, fixing a shocked look on his handsome face. “I’m hurt you think that. I’ll have you know women get drunk on my charm and good looks when they’re with me, not alcohol.”
“Charm and good looks,” Ryan repeated, flipping another piece of bacon. “Uh-huh. And the fact you’re a rock star and that alcohol’s always flowing freely everywhere you go has nothing to do with it.”
“Hey. I can’t help it if people want to buy me drinks all the time. Besides, you know I have my limits. I barely touch the stuff.”
“No kidding,” Ryan said, moving bacon to a paper-towel-lined plate. “So instead you’re passing it to the poor groupies who follow you around like puppy dogs.”
A one-sided grin tugged at Kendrick’s mouth. “That’s not exactly a crime.”
“It is if you’re a parent. You ever pull that with my daughter, and you’ll find out just how much of a crime.”
Kendrick cringed. “Julia’s, like, eight.”
“Ten.”
“Going on twenty-five,” Kate interjected from the table.
“Right,” Ryan said, pinning Kendrick with a look and pointing the fork in his hand Kendrick’s way. “And God only knows why, but she’s got a thing for you, so stop pushing alcohol on poor unsuspecting girls.”
Kendrick turned wide blue eyes Simone’s way. “Am I the only one who thinks these people are nuts? I may need to hire your services soon, angel. Drink up. It’s also a cure for the crazies.”
Simone wanted to laugh but couldn’t. Too much uncertainty weighed on her mind. Glancing down at the tempting beverage in her hand, she wishing a little alcohol would so easily solve her problems. She knew it wouldn’t.
“Here,” a quiet voice said at her side. “I’ll trade you.”
She looked down at the steaming mug of coffee Mitch was holding out, then up to his face. He hadn’t shaved in days, and what used to be scruff was turning into a dark beard with just a hint of red. His shaggy, too long hair was curling near his ears and the nape of his neck, and she itched to run her fingers through the soft locks, but couldn’t bring herself to reach for him. Especially not when she saw his eyes. Not smiling and warm like they’d been when he was flirting with her on their hike. Not sparkling like they’d been the night she’d come home from DC. But unsure, contemplative, and wary. All the things they’d been last night after they’d made love—correction, had sex. All the things she felt right this very minute.
“Um. Thanks.”
She handed him the flute and took the coffee he offered instead, wrapping her hands around the warmth, hoping it would infuse her with strength. She really needed to talk to him, but this wasn’t the time, and though she’d spilled her feelings and shortcomings to him last night, she wasn’t about to do it in front of the entire group.
Mitch went back into the kitchen, crossed to the toaster, and started popping bread into the machine. Kendrick had pulled out a pan and was busily scrambling eggs. Not wanting to get in their way, Simone took her coffee to the table and slid into a chair next to Kate. “What are you doing?”
“Research.”
“On what?”
Kate bit her lip, then sighed and muttered, “Screw it.” Turning the laptop so Simone could see, she pointed to the article in the New York Times she’d been reading. “Senator Dobbs isn’t as squeaky clean as his campaign’s making him out to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s been involved in several shady business dealings that all raise questions about his affiliations, loyalties, and who he’s really serving, the people or himself.”
Simone’s eyes narrowed as she scanned the article. “Politicians are constantly being plagued with those questions. Doesn’t change anything.”
“True, but most of them aren’t chairman of one of the most elite fraternal organizations in the country. One with ties to creating the whole New World Order. And none of them have a dead reporter linked to a story about their campaign. The same week you were threatened and Mitch’s house was shot up.”
Kate flipped screens, and another article popped up.
“It’s been all over the press,” Kate went on. “Have you seen it?”
Simone swallowed and shook her head.
“Basically, media outlets are spinning the story, saying the reporter suffered from depression and alcoholism, and that the stress of the industry got to be too much for her. But a few online sites have made a connection between her death and a story she did linking Dobbs to Cypher and Dagger, and the death of a member who supposedly had dirt that could ruin Dobbs’s political career. The article doesn’t name the member in question, but it says he testified against key members of the organization eleven years before, then disappeared into witness protection, and then mysteriously died himself in
questionable circumstances.”
Simone stared at the screen. The background was black, the words white, making it hard to read, and the graphics were cheesy and cheap, marking it clearly as one of those conspiracy theorist sites. But she knew without seeing names they were talking about Steve. Somehow, this reporter had tracked him down, and that meant Simone had been right not to trust the US marshals and WITSEC.
“The article also mentions political strife within the Cypher organization,” Kate went on. “Which means if Steve really does have something that could bring Dobbs down, and if you’ve got it, then there’s a chance you could find a way out of this mess without turning to WITSEC or running on your own.”
Simone’s pulse beat fast. “If I have it, and I don’t even know what it is yet, that doesn’t solve my problem.”
“Yes, it does.”
Simone turned to look over her shoulder. Ryan had flipped off the griddle and was leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Cut off the head, and the body dies. I looked at everything Katie found this morning. According to these articles, there’s a whole portion of the Cypher membership that doesn’t want Dobbs to become president. If he falls, they’re not going to stand behind him. They’re gonna run from any association with him. Which means they won’t touch you.”
Could it be that easy? Simone looked back at the screen. But even as she thought the words, she knew the answer was a lot more complicated. “I don’t even know what Steve had that they could possibly want.”
“Whatever it is, he had to have stashed somewhere safe,” Kate said. “What did you do with all his things?”
Simone raked a hand through her hair, reminding herself just how badly she needed a shower, barely able to believe she was going along with all this. “In storage.”
“Where?” Ryan asked.
Simone sighed and dropped her hands in her lap. “Stinson Beach.”
“Just north of San Francisco?” Kate asked.
Simone nodded. “Ray and Betty, my…well, they used to be our neighbors in Baltimore who sort of took us all in and became surrogate parent…bought this house there years ago.”
Kate glanced past Simone toward her husband, and, Simone knew, to Mitch beyond. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“I think Simone and I need to take a drive up to Stinson Beach,” Mitch said.
His deep voice sent a shudder through Simone. It was the first thing he’d said through the entire conversation, and the thought of being alone with him in the car for several hours made her pulse beat faster.
Slowly, she turned in her chair to look. Then wished she hadn’t. Though he was leaning back against the counter, his hands perched on the surface behind him, his stance relaxed, she caught the unease in his gaze. And the look that told her he wasn’t so convinced anything they found was going to help in the long run.
“I’m thinking that too,” Ryan said. “And while you two are doing that, Katie and I are going to try to track down more info about this reporter. Someone she was working with had to know what she was digging into.“
“Great,” Kendrick said near the stove with a frown. “Everyone’s got a job but me.”
Kate pushed out of her chair, crossed to Kendrick, and patted him on the shoulder. “I’d think you’d be thrilled to finally be rid of us all.”
Kendrick gripped her hand before she could get away, pulled it to his mouth, and kissed her fingers. “You? Never. Them?” He nodded toward Ryan, then Mitch. “Absolutely.”
Kate laughed. From the opposite counter, Ryan muttered, “Not a groupie, Kendrick. Watch it.”
Kendrick chuckled and steered Kate toward the refrigerator. “Have you ever had one of my famous mimosas? I think you’ll really like it. In fact, something tells me you could all use one.”
Simone chanced one last look at Mitch. And suddenly thought the same thing. Because even though there was now a slim chance she could make things right for him, the dark look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.
Nothing had changed between them. And though she might be able to save his life, there was no way she could fix what was broken between them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Mitch glanced across the console toward Simone, asleep in the front seat of Kendrick’s snazzy Range Rover. She’d zoned off somewhere after Sacramento, and, at the moment, he was thankful for the quiet.
After showering and changing, they’d both said their good-byes, then headed out, hoping to make it to Stinson Beach before dark. They’d made small talk on the drive through the mountains, but neither had brought up what had happened last night. She was being standoffish with him, and he couldn’t blame her. After all, he was the one who’d talked her into staying, then climbed out of bed without a word and avoided her since. But what she didn’t know was that it was killing him being close to her and not touching her. And every minute he went on with this stupid charade of not caring felt like another blow to his already battered heart.
He wasn’t going to tell her, though. He’d been over it a million times in his head, and every time he thought of returning that love she’d professed for him last night, he came back to the same harsh reality that had been plaguing him since he’d found out this was all linked to the Cyphers. If he told her how he really felt, it would only prolong the inevitable. She was still going to hate him when it was over. And they still weren’t going to end up together. So he was doing them both a favor by not leading either one of them on longer than he already had.
He just wished he hadn’t been so damn weak last night and had let her leave when she’d tried.
He turned off I-80 toward Novato. As the bay came into view, an ache formed in his belly, one that urged him to drive down to Pacifica and check out the damage to his house. Not that it would matter. Not that he could do anything about it now anyway. A lot like his relationship with Simone.
The sun was sinking low on the horizon by the time he pulled into Stinson Beach. They’d gotten stuck in traffic near Sacramento and again outside San Francisco, but Simone didn’t even stir until he turned off Highway 1, heading toward Seadrift where her parents—correction, friends—had a house.
She shifted in her seat, blinked several times in the fading light, and looked around. “We’re here already? Wow.” She brushed the hair back from her face, looking sleepy and sexy and oh so kissable in the fading light. “I was more tired than I thought. Thanks for driving.”
He shifted in his own seat, fighting the urge to reach for her again, to kiss her, to lose himself in her for one more night, and focused on the road. “No problem.”
He pulled to the security gate. Simone rolled down her window, leaned over him, and handed the security guard a card from her wallet. “Hi.” The sweet scent of her perfume rose up in the air around him, her tantalizing breast brushing his arm in the process. “Quiet up here tonight.”
“It’s always quiet during the week.” There was no amusement in the guard’s voice, no interest in small talk either. And how the hell the guy didn’t look down at Simone’s breasts beneath the thin white T-shirt that Mitch couldn’t seem to stop fantasizing about was beyond his comprehension. “Address?”
Simone gave the guard the address and waited while he disappeared in the small building.
“Friendly,” Mitch muttered.
“Most of the houses in Seadrift are vacation homes.” Simone leaned back in her seat, and a wave of disappointment rushed over Mitch. Not that he could handle more, but damn, that had felt good. “The owners come here for peace and quiet, not to be chatted up by the locals.”
“Is that what this is? A vacation home?”
“No. The place was pretty run down when Ray and Betty bought it. Ray’s an architect. He loved the lines and art deco style of the house as soon as he saw it. They’ve been remodeling the place room by room for years, whenever they have time off, but he’s so worried about preserving the integrity of the original design, h
e won’t just hand it over to any contractor. They’re planning to retire here, once it’s finally finished, if they ever get around to it.”
“Is that why you moved out here? Because of them?”
“Yeah.” She glanced toward the security house, looking for the guard. “When I left Baltimore, I didn’t really know where I was going. Ray and Betty are the ones who suggested I use their house. They’ve remodeled the downstairs, but the second floor’s still a mess. Originally, I was going to take them up on the offer, but after I thought about it, I couldn’t do it. It’s their nest egg. Then I figured if I had to go somewhere, at least I could go to a place where I might know someone…eventually.”
“And your husband’s stuff?”
A troubled look crossed Simone’s features as she continued to stare out the window. “I didn’t want it at the house. When I was trying to figure out what to do with it all, Betty suggested I store his boxes here, until, at least, they move in.”
The logical part of Mitch wanted to ask why she didn’t want Steve’s stuff at her house, but the emotional part, the part that was still having trouble processing everything, wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. He looked out the driver’s window, toward the Pacific. Dark clouds were rolling in from the ocean, a storm brewing in the distance, already blocking out the sun and casting a shadow over the beach. “Do you bring Shannon up here?”
“No. I don’t bring anyone here. I haven’t wanted to be around any of this.”
If he’d gone through what she had, he might not want his daughter around the reminders either.
His daughter.
Shannon.
His chest grew tight. She was never going to be his daughter now. And no amount of wanting or crying about it was going to change that fact.
The guard came back and handed Simone her gate card. She nodded and tucked it back in her wallet. The guard pointed directions, then disappeared back into the building, and, seconds later, the gate lifted.
Mitch put the car in gear and turned left onto the street. They wove roughly half a mile down the strand before she pointed to a modern, geometrically shaped house that faced the ocean, with various rooflines and decks. Flowering plants and shrubs rustling in the breeze surrounded the house. Mitch glanced in the rearview for the hundredth time, but no one was following them. For a moment, at least, they had a respite. Something else he was thankful for.
Hold On To Me Page 23
